


... of the Morning

by lookninjas



Series: The One Where They're All Strippers [12]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 06:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3841324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookninjas/pseuds/lookninjas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't always have their nights to themselves.  But then, some things are better in broad daylight, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	... of the Morning

The sun is inching above the horizon by the time they finally make it back to Kurt's apartment, the edges of the sky slipping from black to cobalt to the bright blue of a California morning as Kurt lets them into the building.  It's early, early enough that there's no one around to see Kurt's fingers wrap around Blaine's tie, see him gently but insistently back Blaine up into the wall, see Blaine's stunned, fluttering hands settle on Kurt's waist, clutching there, bunching up Kurt's shirt in his fists as Kurt leans in and --

But it's still morning.

The truth is, it's morning more often than not, with Kurt.  Blaine gets off work comparatively early -- show over by eleven-thirty, then pictures until midnight or maybe a little later.  By one in the morning, he's wiped away the baby oil and is dressed and ready to go.  With Sebastian, that meant _out_ ; with Jeremiah, it meant _home_.  But now there's Kurt, and Kurt has his own performances, which can go later than Blaine's, or he has his friends' performances, or he's just working as a dresser, or he's not working at all and that means he can come to Miss Holliday's and meet Blaine in the dressing room.  Which should mean they're back at Kurt's by two a.m., but instead it always means they wind up watching movies with Cooper, or at some bar somewhere with Cooper and Sam and everyone else (and _then_ watching movies with Cooper, because he takes a long time to settle down after the show and always needs company).  Or if Blaine's not working, then he's with Kurt, and then it's Kurt's friends -- then it's karaoke or dancing or lounging around on the floor of Mike and Tina's apartment drinking wine and watching Santana show off on the pole in Tina's living room (and then watching Kurt show off after her, and Blaine's pretty sure they're equally skilled, but he knows who he enjoys more.)  And so, even when neither of them is working, even when there's no real reason for them to wait until dawn for this -- for Kurt climbing the stairs backwards, still pulling Blaine gently by the tie, playful and insistent -- they usually do anyway.

Not that Blaine's got a problem with that.  Not really. 

The apartment is surprisingly dim when they're finally inside (it took a while; it usually does, with Blaine plastered against Kurt's back, fingers tracing down the zipper of Kurt's jeans, _God I can't wait to feel you_ and --); Kurt leaves Blaine to shut the door, kicks his shoes off as he hurries into the main room to throw the blackout curtains wide open, letting in the pale blue light of morning. 

Blaine just smiles at him, locks the door, draws the bolt.  "I thought you said you weren't an exhibitionist?" he asks, teasing, as he shrugs out of his blazer and drapes it over a hook on the wall.

"We're on the fifth floor, Blaine," Kurt says, turning on his heel and practically _stalking_ across the room, socked feet noiseless on the carpet.  Blaine can't help but smile at the look in his eyes, lifting his chin and squaring his shoulders (even though he has no real inclination to fight; Kurt can devour him whenever he wants).  "No one can see."

" _You_ can see," Blaine says, as Kurt's hands settle on his shoulders, smooth down his arms, tracing the shape of him through the thin fabric of his shirt. 

"Mmm," Kurt says, very very slowly drawing his hands up and in, sliding featherlight back up Blaine's arms and across his chest, and Blaine is already shivering a little when Kurt slips two fingers behind the knot of his tie, tugging it loose.  "Would you rather I were blindfolded?"

The tie slides to the floor, and Kurt's fingers slip down to the first button of Blaine's shirt.  At this rate, it's going to take Kurt forever to get him undressed, and Blaine's pretty sure he won't be capable of standing up by the time Kurt is done.

Again, not that he's got a problem with that.

"But then I couldn't see your eyes," Blaine murmurs, swaying a bit closer, and Kurt's hands hesitate on the second button, Kurt's cheeks turning a little pink.  "And you know how I feel about your eyes."

Third button, and Kurt dips his head, nuzzles his way under Blaine's chin, lips pressed to the insistent flutter of Blaine's pulse.  "You could remind me," he says, all hot breath on the sensitive skin of Blaine's neck, and Blaine shivers again, arches closer even as he chuckles.

"Now you're fishing for compliments," he says, and feels Kurt's smile against his skin, and this is something new, too, something he never really did before Kurt.  Laughing, even as Kurt's fingers open his shirt and Kurt's lips make his skin buzz and his hands reach out for Kurt's hips, pressing their bodies flush and rocking just a little to make Kurt bite down into his neck, teeth stinging sharp and hot in a way that goes straight to Blaine's dick.  "Fine," he adds, breath coming quicker even though he's still smiling.  "Your eyes.  Your eyes are like..." Kurt bites down again, this time just because he can, and Blaine's hips snap forward without him even needing to think about it.  "Oh God, _Kurt_ \--" 

Kurt pulls back a little, the tip of his tongue teasing Blaine's neck as he lets it trail down to the little dip between his collarbones, making quick work of Blaine's remaining buttons.  "My eyes are like 'Oh God, Kurt?'" he asks, grinning wickedly against Blaine's sternum.  "Could you be a little more specific?  Like, is that a good 'Oh God, Kurt," or is it a bad --"

"Oh _God_ ," Blaine groans again, hands settling on Kurt's shoulders as Kurt slides down to his knees, still smirking up at Blaine even as he nuzzles at Blaine's stomach, at that place where he can't seem to get definition no matter how many crunches he does, and Blaine wonders what language has the right words for a person like Kurt.  It isn't English, he's pretty sure.  "I can't -- Seriously, do you know how hard it is for me to think when you're --"

Blaine's voice is choked off abruptly when Kurt presses a kiss to the buckle of his belt, chin grazing so _close_.

"You know the interesting thing about _your_ eyes?" Kurt asks, hands settled on Blaine's hips, keeping him stable even when he wants to collapse into Kurt's arms.  His face tilts up to look at Blaine, eyes wide and serious.  "Even when you can't find the words, there's...  There's paragraphs, in your eyes."

"Kurt," Blaine says, helpless, and Kurt's smile turns a little smug as he starts unbuckling Blaine's belt.

"Like now," he says.  "For instance."

And Blaine still can't think of any words good enough to describe Kurt's eyes, so he just sinks into them, letting himself drop down, down until he's chest-to-chest with Kurt, pushing them both down with his knees on either side of Kurt's hips, and Kurt's impossible eyes are still wide and stunned when Blaine's finally flutter shut in the moment before he presses his lips to Kurt's.

Somewhere in the middle of it all -- Kurt's hands suddenly forceful, stripping Blaine's shirt away from his shoulders; Blaine's hands sliding under Kurt's sweater to press insistent against his ribcage, trying to force them closer, closer; Blaine's mouth on Kurt's neck and Kurt's fingers tight in Blaine's hair; Blaine's hips rocking down against Kurt's and Kurt surging upwards in response -- somewhere possibly around the time Kurt finally manages to get Blaine's pants open and his hands down the back, gripping tight at Blaine's ass, or maybe right about the moment Blaine bends himself double so his tongue can circle one of Kurt's nipples and make him arch and hiss and grip Blaine that much harder (but definitely before Kurt pushes forward with sudden strength and tips Blaine onto his back, Blaine's legs instinctively closing around Kurt's waist), the sun takes over the sky, flooding Kurt's apartment with light.  When Blaine's eyes open again, Kurt is haloed by the day, a glowing, incandescent thing above him, and all Blaine can do is gasp out "Oh, God, Kurt," and pull him back down and kiss him and kiss him and kiss him, their hips working together until the only thing keeping Blaine from coming is that he knows he can have so much more if he waits a little longer and even then he's not sure he can be that patient, not if he can --

"We can't --"  Kurt pushes back with an effort, strong arms holding him suspended above Blaine's body even when Blaine's hands come up to cradle his jaw, trying to coax him back down.  "Not here, not... Come on, honey.  You know as well as I do that neither of us can afford to get rugburn.  Not in our line of work."

"I've got concealer," Blaine says, and when Kurt doesn't budge, Blaine lets his legs fall away from Kurt's waist so he can sit up more easily, arch into Kurt's body and nuzzle at Kurt's neck, that one spot where Kurt is the most sensitive.  "So beautiful like this, Kurt, in the sunlight.  God, so beautiful..."

"Jesus, Blaine."  Kurt's voice cracks, but he still pushes himself away, Blaine chasing desperately after him until Kurt settles a hand in the center of Blaine's chest and holds him in place.  "Let me get a sheet or...  something, seriously, I know Miss Holliday loves me but that doesn't mean she won't kill me if you show up at work all..."  He picks himself up and turns toward the bed, waving one hand the way he does when he can't find the right words to describe something (or he can find the right words, but has deemed them too vulgar).  "And don't tell me you've got concealer, because I saw what happened the last time you had one of the guys put concealer on your back.  And it wasn't pretty."

"It wasn't that bad," Blaine protests, but it's mostly just for the sake of doing it.  He's not exactly thrilled with the delay, not when he's been ready since the moment Kurt's hand closed around his tie, but at the same time, he can't be too upset about watching Kurt move around the room with no shirt on in the full light of day.  His broad shoulders, his long, pale arms, the dip in his back... 

And then Kurt turns around, once he's snatched up a blanket and dug condoms and lube out of the drawer of his bedside table, and his eyes fall on Blaine, sitting on the floor with his legs akimbo and his belt undone, his zipper down, and a flush starts high up on Kurt's cheekbones.  He bites his lip, and his eyes darken, and Blaine squirms a little as Kurt stalks toward him, pinned down under Kurt's gaze. 

"Right here," Kurt breathes, crouching down in front of Blaine and leaning in, so close that his breath puffs hot against Blaine's lips.  "In the sunlight."

"Please," is all Blaine can manage, and this time, Kurt lets Blaine cup his face in his hands and pull him in all the way.

  


They separate, eventually, so Kurt can get the blanket spread out, and then Blaine settles back onto it, legs splayed and hips up high so Kurt can work his trousers down and off, and it's _so_ bright; in the clear light of day, Kurt's eyes are nothing but blue, perfectly so, and when Kurt leans in closer, Blaine can see the spray of freckles across his nose, the light tips of his eyelashes, and even when Kurt finally pushes in with two slick fingers, Blaine can't bear to shut his eyes.  There is nothing more beautiful than this, than Kurt in the sunlight, and Blaine doesn't want to miss a second.

"God," Kurt murmurs, eyes studying Blaine's face intently as his fingers crook up, just in the right spot and God so _good_ , and Blaine twists underneath him, panting for breath as Kurt sets to work in earnest, every small motion of his fingers making Blaine gasp, muscles tensing erratically as he tries to get closer to and away from the feeling of Kurt stroking insistently at that one perfect place with the pads of his fingers, so good and too much and never, ever enough.  "God, Blaine, you're so...  You take my breath away."

" _Kurt_."  And Blaine does his best to keep his eyes open for as long as possible, tries to focus on Kurt's parted lips, rosy and a little damp, on the blue of his eyes and the perfect curve of his lashes and the way he watches Blaine, tracing every expression that crosses Blaine's face like he's somehow feeding off Blaine's pleasure...  But Kurt knows Blaine, knows his body, and it's so hard when every small twitch of Kurt's fingers is putting him closer, closer --

"If I --" Kurt begins, and then stops, dropping his face for just a moment so that Blaine can't see it, although he never lets up the steady pressure on Blaine's prostate that's got him wound up tight enough to snap.  When Kurt lifts his head again, his jaw is set, his eyes clear and bright and only a little nervous.  "I want to watch you come," he says, firmly.  "Just like this.  And then I want to...  To _fuck_ you.  And watch you come again.  If that's okay."

And for no apparent reason, it's that last little thing, _If that's okay_ said so soft and so sweet, that makes Blaine's eyes slam shut, back arching up so high that he carries Kurt up with him, his hips twisting and his muscles twitching as he comes so hard he practically sees stars. 

And then it's blank, for a little while, until he comes back to the softness of the blanket spread out underneath him, the delightful, shivery feeling of Kurt's fingers tracing just along the inside of his hole, and the sunlight haloing Kurt's face when Blaine manages to open his eyes again.

"Was that a yes?" Kurt asks, a little anxiously, and Blaine can't help but laugh, and that's okay, because that's what he and Kurt do, now.  There's sunlight, and laughter, and Blaine has always really, really enjoyed sex, but never as much as he does with Kurt.

So he rolls them both over (Kurt's fingers slipping free, making him shudder with the feeling of it), and takes a moment to appreciate what Kurt looks like, pale skin shining in the sunlight, rosy lips and cheeks and a spray of freckles across his nose, his eyes no longer just blue, but gold and green and too many colors for him to ever be able to describe them.  "And this," he says, smoothing his hands down Kurt's chest, olive skin against ivory, "is why I could never blindfold you."

"That," Kurt says, faltering when Blaine reaches out to grab a condom, tearing the packet open and sliding it carefully down onto Kurt's dick.  "That doesn't make any -- _oh_ \-- That doesn't make any sense."

Blaine thinks about taking a little more time lubing Kurt up, because Kurt's eyes are wide and there's sweat on his hairline and the flush is spreading from his cheeks down to his chest.  But he still _needs_ , even after Kurt's already made him come once, and it's not enough to feel Kurt in his hands, not right now.  So he braces himself above Kurt's body, holds Kurt's dick steady, and carefully lowers himself down until their bodies are flush and he's full and the pressure is everywhere and _God_ \--

And Kurt moans, low and long, underneath him, neck exposed and lips parted and his whole body flushed, and he looks so innocent, and at the same time, he looks like sin, and Blaine just can't imagine hiding this under the cover of darkness. 

"Kurt," he says, voice already a little ragged, and leans in to press a kiss to Kurt's uptilted chin.  The shift in angle makes his breath catch in his chest -- God, Kurt's so _deep_ , feels so good, so -- "Thought you," Blaine continues, and can't resist rocking just a little on Kurt's lap, forward and back and the drag of Kurt inside him, so big and present and _God_ \-- "Thought you wanted to watch."

"Oh God," Kurt whimpers, but his eyes flutter open again, fixing on Blaine's.  One of his hands settles on Blaine's hip, the other just over his heart.  "God, Blaine, I --"  Then his hips snap up, and Blaine has to struggle to keep his arms locked, keep himself braced so his face isn't buried in Kurt's shoulder.  "All right," Kurt says, his face and his body painted with sunlight, eyes wide and bluer than the sky.  "I'm watching."

And he keeps on watching, eyes fixed on Blaine even when his back arches and his hand tightens on Blaine's hip and his breath catches in his throat.  He never looks away, barely even blinks. 

And Blaine watches Kurt for as long as he can, until he's too full and it's too much and it's too good and he _can't_ , and the only thing that keeps him from collapsing onto Kurt's chest is Kurt's outstretched hand holding him up, keeping him in place so Kurt can watch. 

And it isn't until Blaine's finally back in his own body, not until his eyes are open, gazing down on Kurt in hazy satisfaction, that Kurt's face twists up and his eyes scrunch closed and his hips snap up one last time, deep as he can go, and he comes with the sunlight striking gold in his hair and kissing the freckles on his nose, the flush on his collarbones.

Blaine just stares at him until his heart hurts too much to take it anymore, and then finally, finally sinks down into Kurt's arms, and kisses his cheeks and his forehead and the light tips of his eyelashes, wrapping them up in the blanket and keeping them tightly pressed together, on the floor, in the sunlight.

"We have to do laundry," Kurt murmurs, eyes still shut, finally sleepy.  "Don't let me forget."

Blaine just laughs, and kisses Kurt's forehead, and watches him until his eyes can't stay open anymore.


End file.
